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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005503">Sapnap's Lament</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicharlie/pseuds/alicharlie'>alicharlie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Happy Ending, Idk bro this is fr just really sad, Sad, Sad Ending, after the community house is blown up, like genuine angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:53:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicharlie/pseuds/alicharlie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"But perhaps he was naïve for believing fate could be changed, and perhaps this is what life had written in the script for him, perhaps he was never meant to fully know love, only a sweet taste of safety before misery defeated him."</p><p>The broken walls of the community house bring back painful memories for Sapnap as he sifts through the rubble of his home, heartbroken and tired.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Karl Jacobs &amp; Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity &amp; Sapnap, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs &amp; Sapnap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sapnap's Lament</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sapnap sighed, the remains of the home he once loved crumbled around him, shadows of happiness ghosting the walls. He stared at the remnants of the community house, laughter echoing in his ears as he begged himself to tap into memories once forgotten, of a time before the arrival of Tommy, Tubbo or Wilbur, of a time long before who Dream once was shifted, and left for good. As his feet paced the broken floorboards, once a sea of crafting benches built from a lost joke, he began to sift through the rubble, broken glass crunching like the last of winter snow.</p><p>          	This place was once somewhere safe, somewhere he grew and learned what friendship, and family was. Somewhere that shaped him, and his best friends, into men, into fighters, healers, carers. People so consumed by compassion, empathy, and love that they never longed for anything other than the safety of each other, of the warm bed after a long day’s travels. He had watched as Dream trained, day and night, learning combat drills, technique, and skill until he was unstoppable, untraceable, a blur in the night who could never seem to be hurt. He had laughed with George, a boy so full of joy and wonder that he became the much-needed shoulder for Sapnap to cry upon, always prepared to crack a joke, or tell a story that captivated his emotions until he forgot he ever knew what sadness was, or how consuming loneliness could feel. He needed that shoulder now, more than he had ever allowed himself to realise. Looking back, he would be unable to distinguish whether it was the bricks that lay strewn around his feet, the cracked archways that once contained doors or the shattered remains of the aquarium that told Sapnap that his life was forever changed. That he would forever hear sadness’ voice whispering to him, and that he would forever be wrapped in the cold embrace of loneliness.</p><p>          	It wasn’t meant to be this way. His gentle naivety had allowed him to become swallowed by the family he craved, by the laughter and comfort of his home that he had not seen the cracks in Dream’s armour as he began to push himself too far, or heard the edge in his voice that sounded almost alien coming from a boy so familiar. He had missed how George’s jokes lessened, how his smile had turned fragile and his outlook sour. Sapnap had allowed himself to fall so far into comfort, so far into the love of a family that he had missed the warning signs that the foundations were beginning to crumble. Perhaps, had he seen that the foundations were made of sand, he would have been faster, would have recognised the signs of destruction creeping its gnarled fingers into the cracks of their home. How could he though? When he was little more than a teenager? A boy forced to grow up too fast in order to keep up with Dream’s strength and agility, or George’s wit and wisdom. He had tried, oh how he had tried. He had pushed his body to the edge, willing himself to become Dream’s equal in combat, a partner for the dance that was a fight. He had trained his mind to be sharp, carefully weighing situations with a stoic face, mirroring the mannerisms he saw George perform so elegantly. No matter how hard he would try, he would never be as graceful as Dream or as unreadable as George. The other boys would tease him for these weaknesses, forever criticising his recklessness in a fight, or his foolishness in a debate. It would only be later, in the ruined remains of his home that he would realise his gift had never been strength or wisdom, but his talent for forgiveness, his ability to make a friend of anyone.</p><p>          	But what use was that talent now, amongst the shattered remains of his home, the broken history of the boys he called family. One, a tyrant, consumed by power and a need for revenge for a twisted history he never told. The other, a former king, the laughingstock of the Dream SMP for how easily his title was given and removed by the tyrant himself, one of his former best friends. What use was compassion when Dream exclaimed his hatred for anything other than trivial items, or when George had moved away, slamming the door in his face and never opening it again.</p><p>          	Sapnap carried resentment in his heart, once so open and full of trust. Resentment for George for abandoning their friendships when he needed him most, running at the first sign that Dream would no longer give him what he wanted, running when he recognised his position as a pawn on the Chess master’s board. Resentment for Dream, who had actively stripped Sapnap of his one gift by systematically destroying everything he loved, who had abandoned their partnership in his unquenched thirst for power, who had taken advantage of Sapnap’s loyalty and recklessly thrown him into wars with no care whether he returned. And resentment for himself; for craving love and approval so immensely that it blinded him, unable and unwilling to recognise who his best friends had become and who they ran from. He resented himself for loving Dream, for seeing through the walls and past the horror, willing himself to believe that the boy he called his brother was harbouring in the shell of a monster, confused and frightened, manipulated and beaten, unable to overwhelm the anger that had poisoned him. He had once believed that to be true, that Dream was poisoned. He had once looked back on the memories of Dreamon hunting with pride, and happiness, and an overwhelming sense of relief, grateful to have slain the beast that had corrupted Dream. Now those memories were stained with the blood of Dream’s actions, the blood of his friends and enemies, those beaten down by Dream even after the hunt. He knew now that whatever it was that possessed Dream never left, not really. Sapnap knew who Dream was would perhaps be gone forever, a distant memory to himself, one he would be unable to prove ever existed. </p><p>Apart from Sapnap, the only other person that truly knew Dream before the arrival of the others had run, far from the lands of the SMP, far from the reaching hands of Sapnap as his fingertips had clung to the shreds of their family. George had left and Sapnap had known when he did that he would never return. He couldn’t hate the reasoning for this, he knew that if he were brave enough, or not foolish enough, he would have left too. He should have followed George; if the tables were turned, and Dream had been the one to run, Sapnap would have gone with him, and would have followed him into the unknown. He knew what he should have done, and he blamed himself for every decision not made, every decision that could have changed their lives. But perhaps he was naïve for believing fate could be changed, and perhaps this is what life had written in the script for him, perhaps he was never meant to fully know love, only a sweet taste of safety before misery defeated him. He knew he could never hate George, not really, but the thought of him left a bitter taste on Sapnap’s tongue; George leaving cemented his future, forced him further into Dream’s arms, into the promise of trust and family, into the heartbreak and betrayal that would follow. He hated that George broke the code of family, that instead of allowing himself to try, to attempt to fix the shattered pieces of their lives, he fled. And maybe George running was calculated and kind, a move to not only save himself but to force Sapnap to snap, to break his heart in such a way that the void could not be filled by Dream’s empty promises of success and power. Maybe George had known then that Sapnap could not hate Dream if he stayed, that Sapnap would always carry hope if he knew that George might try to help fix Dream. Or maybe George couldn’t take the manipulation again, couldn’t face being just another tactic in Dream’s game. Sapnap had been so angry when Dream made George king, he had yelled at Dream in the whistling cold of the night's air about broken promises that they were equals, throat hoarse. He despised the feeling of mistrust, that George was better than him in some way, that Dream believed he wasn’t good enough after years of trying to be just that. He looked back at that time now with the same heart-wrenching anger, but not for the feeling of envy and mistrust, but for the willingness of Dream to sacrifice everything they had worked for in order for a moment of power, a minor political play to assume control. Dream had forced George’s hand, betraying them all to assert dominance. And for what? To strike fear into the hearts of the residents of the SMP? To show children that he could pull the strings and play the puppeteer? Sapnap knew now that the betrayal in that moment was not that Dream didn’t trust him, or think he was good enough to be his equal, even fleetingly, but for sacrificing George, sacrificing their friendships, sacrificing everything, by playing a hand so dangerous that it single-handedly separated their futures, cutting the ties that bound them together, fragmenting their family and forcing them all onto their own paths. If Sapnap’s fate was pre-written, black ink on white paper, then why was it so cruel? Wasn’t life supposed to be just, even if unfair? Wasn’t life meant to have highs to mirror the lows? </p><p>          	 Sapnap sat now, back stiff against the last remaining wall, one untouched by the destruction that followed Dream. The SMP was quiet as if it was holding its breath, time paused, giving Sapnap a moment of peace, a moment where he could allow his thoughts to run free and painful. There was a melancholy feeling to moments of silence like this. He had only felt the air go still like this once before, when he had seen George again for the first, and last time, since he had left. He remembers the sight of George, a broken man, uncrowned, storming his way up the mountain on which El Rapids crested, demanding justice and payback for the humiliation felt when he was dethroned. He had not even glanced twice at Sapnap, sat next to Karl in their new home. George had radiated anger, spoiled the air with its taste. He remembered the moment in which he had frozen, heart stopping, as he stared at the man who abandoned him, and how George had looked right through him, just another long forgotten friend whom he couldn’t quite remember how to greet. Sapnap hadn’t forgotten George, hadn’t forgotten his laugh, his smile, the way he held himself. He had not allowed himself to, was too fearful of what forgetting would bring, how solitary acceptance would feel. But George had pushed all the memories of before, of Dream, aside, locking them into an inaccessible part of his mind, and with it he had abandoned his friendship with Sapnap, forcing himself to no longer allow anyone in, even if it meant ignoring the crestfallen look on Sapnap's face, refusing to meet his hopeful eyes. Sapnap hoped that when George spoke to him he was hurting too, that he felt even an ounce of pain as the waves of their intertwined pasts lapped at their feet. He hoped that George’s skin burned when he felt Sapnap’s eyes on him, that his chest tightened when he spoke. He hoped it hurt, and that George felt the pain he had forced onto them both the night he had said goodbye. They had hardly spoken throughout the entirety of the incident that followed, had hardly exchanged more than a simple greeting outside of the performance Quackity had ordered. Sapnap had felt George’s pain then, felt it ripple through him as George cried at Dream, demanding his crown back, demanding respect from the blond boy before him. He had felt George’s pain when Dream had laughed, when Dream had cast him aside again to denounce their act of terrorism as the work of a tyrant, hypocrisy lacing every word. He had felt George’s pain when his shoulders had slumped, and his confidence deflated. He had felt George’s pain when George had starred in the eyes of Dream and seen nothing behind them, no trace of emotion other than greed. Sapnap wished he couldn’t feel George’s pain, but he could, because he had felt it every day since George had left, and for months before. Sapnap knew how crushing this moment would come to be for George, how final the words Dream yelled would feel. He knew that any cautious optimism that George had felt had been ripped violently out of his heart, and he would be left void of any emotion other than regret. Time had frozen when Sapnap had seen George again, and he had known the moment George had strode in that that was it for them, that their futures had become so far removed from each other that their paths would never cross again, and they would both become painful stories told to new friends in the dead of night.</p><p>Sapnap grimaced as he remembered the night he left the community house, when he had packed his bags in the silence of the night, chests emptied into his pockets. It hadn't been an easy night; he hadn’t expected it to be easy. Maybe it could have been, had he been faster at leaving, had he not shuffled his feet, mind and heart wanting separate things. He hadn’t meant for Dream to come home halfway; he hadn’t meant to see him again, not like that. Or maybe he had. Maybe he purposely spent an hour deciding whether or not to pack extra iron, or contemplated taking the pictures of them off of the walls. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had wanted Dream to come home, wanted him to face the consequences of his actions, to see the choice Sapnap was making and ask him to stay. Maybe he had wanted Dream to lie to him, to promise things would be better, that he cared. Maybe that was all he had wanted, and that’s why he waited, cross legged on the ends of their beds for hours, watching as the moon settled and the sun rose, morning rays blinding him. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered if he had waited. He remembers Dream stumbling in, tired, his mind distracted, a gentle grin on his face. He remembers the half glance he was given; he remembers as acceptance had hardened on Dream’s face, and how Dream had held the door for him as he left. He remembers the silence, not a word exchanged between them, just a searching look from Sapnap as he begged for anything, any semblance of remorse or regret on Dream’s face. But there had been nothing there, and maybe there never had been. Maybe Sapnap had become so enticed by Dream’s promises of power that somewhere along the way he forced himself to believe they were friends, that Dream had cared. Maybe it had always been a lie, beautiful and twisted. Maybe Sapnap had longed for a home so badly that he ended up burying himself in the lies, hoping he had fulfilled his wish.</p><p>He had found a home after he left, one made of warmth and love. But the memories were smudged, stained with sadness as he had watched one partner corrupt and one fade, destined to fulfil the cycle Dream and George had established. Quackity and Karl had been the much needed support for Sapnap after he had left, arms open and hearts loving. They had given him that shoulder to cry on, and the first laugh in a while. El Rapids had become yet another lost memory to Sapnap, a moment left behind in the chaos of war. He longed for that happiness again, to feel the warmth of Karl’s arms around him just once more, to see the twisted grin of Quackity as he cracked a joke at everyone’s expense. He had felt it ending long before they had known it, felt things shift. He had been pulling away for a while before it had, the boys becoming too similar to his former friends that he couldn’t avoid it, despite how he had tried. Sapnap had hated himself the night he realised who Quackity was becoming, how he had begun to shadow the tyrant himself. He had tried to force his mind to forget, cried as he begged himself to lie. He had starred in the mirror that night, tears sliding down his cheeks as he realised that Quackity had broken, had corrupted, his mind contaminated by calls for power and success. He hated himself for not stopping it, for allowing another boy he loved to become muddied by war. He hated himself for seeing the echoes of Dream in his lover and never silencing them, never convinced that Quackity would shift too. He had tried so hard to lie to himself that it was a falsehood, one formulated by paranoia and anger over how Dream had changed that he had ignored it as Quackity had begun to call to arms the butcher army, as he had requested Sapnap to stand in their ranks. He allowed Quackity to weaponise him, just as Dream had done. Because that's what loving someone meant. That’s what family was about. And besides, at that point he had Karl, another face to turn to in the dead of night when the nightmares flooded his sleep, when he woke up screaming. He had had Karl. Until he hadn’t. Sapnap knew before anyone that Karl had changed, that something was wrong. He had felt it long before he knew he did. He felt it in the wariness that hid in Karl’s actions, felt it in the blank stares over breakfast in the mornings. He had watched Karl call his memories back, watched Karl’s eyes fill with love. He never confirmed it, not really. They never exchanged words of confirmation, never a look of agreement. But Sapnap knew that Karl was beginning to forget. Of course he knew. He had trained himself to know, trained himself to read people, trained himself to care. He knew because it was Karl, and he had loved him. So he watched. Again. Watched as one partner threw himself at the feet of insanity, bargaining his soul for power and success. And as the other slipped silently out of their lives, removing himself from their consciousness as gently as he could. He watched as he relived the story of himself and Dream and George again, never stopping the pages turning, never preventing the events he knew so well. And he had loved them. Oh how he had loved them. And maybe that was why it still hurt, why his wounds could not heal. Because he loved them still, all of them. He loved them with all his heart, painful as it was and he could not stop. Because why shut the door on the best parts of life, why silence the tempting voices when they laced their lies with truth, challenging him to find it? Why stop loving them when at some point they had loved him back, even if for just a moment? </p><p>Sapnap stood. He looked at the remains of the house again, sizing up the damage. He sighed. It would take weeks of work to put a dent in the rubble, months to rebuild alone. But that was okay, because for the first time in his life he was alone with nothing to do, no one to love or entertain. He had no one left, no one to busy his time with caring about any longer. And perhaps, for now, this would have to be enough. Sapnap needed a home once more, and maybe, for now, that home would have to be physical, couldn’t be found in the arms of another. So he began to work; he began to fix his home. And he hoped that one day the space would be filled with five boys, never lonely or broken again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! I kinda just shut my brain off and wrote this. I hope it made you feel something; I feel like Sapnap's character gets ignored in the lore a lot so I wanted to talk about how he's been through some of the worst pain on the server without even being a main character. Thank you for reading this! It means a lot :)</p><p>also im @sapnapVEVO on twitter :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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